How to save a life
by Theotherhalfofdarkness
Summary: The road to recovery starts with a single step. If only that single step wasn't into a burning fire with blond hair and smoking problem. He felt like he was standing next to the sun, burning in it's heat. Shizuo is just trying to rekindle a spark of life, to save a life. Depressed!Izaya and caring!Shizuo. Trigger warnings for depression and suicide. Shizaya.


**AN: OKAY LET ME EXPLAIN! I'm stuck on where I want to go with my other two stories and you know what I do to get over my writer's block? I write a different story and yes, that is why I am now circulating three fics at once. I'm slowly trying to get to hell guys, I really am digging here. To my readers in the other fics I'm sorry this is getting really jumpy. Honestly, I felt "mine" was getting to depressing (I'm going through stuff right now and it's leaking into my stories, sorry. Life is really hard these days) and that wasn't what I wanted to do with that fic so that's why I made this uber sad!Izaya story and Caring!Shizuo. Rant over.**

Izaya knew the rooftop wasn't a good place for him to be. Not only was it hazardous in his current state of distress, it left him open to the world. He was vulnerable to the elements, to the noise of the city, to the eyes of curious people who should be minding their own business. He was vulnerable like this, not that he wasn't vulnerable at any other given point in the past three weeks.

Three weeks? Had it really only been that long? It seemed so wrong for such a short, long, time to have passed. The days had all blended together recently, making it hard for Izaya to differentiate between what day it currently was. He spent them listlessly in his apartment, waiting, hoping, and then despairing, before repeating in a never ending cycle. A never ending dance. Sometimes he'd close all the blinds and turn off the lights, simulating the darkness in his heart and mind. During those periods of time he didn't even know if it was day or night, so dark did he make his apartment.

Izaya closed his eyes as a gust of wind assaulted his face. The bite of the winter gust barely registered in his senses, so disinterested was he in the state of his own body. His own body, something which he had cherished before now meant so little. Maybe it had always meant this little to him, and it was only now that he acknowledged it. You can't fix the broken. Can't undo a gunshot, can't undo the cut of a knife against porcelain skin. Can't undo life, no matter how hard you try.

He opened his eyes again, water splashing onto his forehead. It was fitting that the sky shared his mood. After all, he was a god wasn't he? If he wanted to have a good spat in despair, then it was only proper that the sky followed suit. Right?

Ha, what a joke. Izaya removed his jacket slowly, his body and mind fighting a war that neither would ever truly win. Underneath the fur-trimmed coat he wore only a black T-shirt, something that wouldn't protect him against the oncoming rainstorm that was sure to hit.

As if he needed protection, he wouldn't be here for much longer.

The coat was an unfamiliar weight in his hands. Strange how it could sit so comfortably on his shoulders, but feel so heavy in his hands. His lips twitched as he lightly stroked the fur on the coat, feeling the relative softness that it retained, even after so many years of use. It was symbolic of him really, the coat he found on the clearance rack that no one wanted. Abandoned by the world, picked up by only the lowest of the low. Years of abuse, stitches like scars patterning its dark cloth. Yeah, he and this coat had a lot in common.

The coat was light though, unlike Izaya. He watched as it fell to the ground, so slow. He wished that he could fall that slowly, be that light. He wasn't light though, he was heavy. He was burdened by his actions, by his need to be seen, by his spite for those who had more. There was always someone with more, he realized now. Realized too late that is. Far too late for any hope of redemption.

Despite that thought, Izaya still looked over his shoulder to see if maybe, just maybe, redemption would in fact find him. It was his ultimate tests of sorts, something he regretted doing like so many other things. A rooftop, visible by the public. His coat now somewhere on the ground in the city, a one of its kind that almost anyone with half a brain could recognize. Messages and letters of farewell with those few who may care…

Scars on his arms from years of pain. He didn't think he could make it more obvious, not to himself, or to anyone else.

He was asking for help.

No one came through the door to the roof, not like he expected anyone too. Izaya sighed and looked back to the ground, his body shivering involuntarily from the cold. Did he really want to die? He had danced around that question all day, all week, all his life. Was ending it going to be worth it? He hurt now, just like he had hurt then. There was still a chance of it getting better though, right? There was a light at the end of the tunnel or some such?

If there was a light, the words wouldn't sound so hollow. Izaya bit his lip, managing to draw blood; not that he cared. The coppery tang washed over his taste-buds, an unfortunate familiar taste that had once made his retch. Now, he hardly noticed it.

The railing was cold under his bare hands, and wet. The rain had increased to a steady drum against his head and shoulders. Wet and cold, so very cold. Izaya was used to the cold, he hadn't been warm in years. Not since he was left alone, always alone. That was his fate wasn't it? To be alone… There always had to be someone to take the blame for the misfortune of the world. Someone to bear the burden of dislike and hatred, for no other reason that being. Izaya knew these facts well, and had played his part accordingly. He had been the cruel demon, the deranged psycho, the murderous flea, he had been them all. So they didn't have to be any of them. The world was safer when it's true evil was condensed. Better to kill one man to save a thousand than kill a thousand to save a few hundred. Now his role was complete. At least, that's what he claimed. Because his role ended with his death, and that was coming here soon. So soon.

Climbing over the railing was more difficult than he had anticipated. His arms were as shaky, if not more, than his legs. His eyes stun with unshed tears. To end like this, was not the death of a god at all. He was but a weak and pathetic human. Just like everyone else. Maybe that was the greatest tragedy of Orihara Izaya, that he was just like everyone else. Just eviler, always worse. He was the monster of Ikebukuro.

He was panting as he stood on the other-side of the railing. His hair slapped him in the face as the wind tossed it about, the wet strands poking his eyes and catching in his mouth. It made it harder to see the ground so far down, which may have been a good thing. Izaya smiled, a rare thing these days. Soon. So soon. Just a single step now, and then it'd be over.

How he wished his smile was real. He wished it wasn't this painful.

Air was painfully pushed against his lungs. He inhaled as though he were about to go underwater to grab some deep sea treasures. He breathed as though he were about to drown. And, in a way, he guessed he was. Holding the railing with both hands, his back to the rest of the roof, Izaya let one-foot step over the edge. The way it dangled and felt so… free, mesmerized him. His whole body could feel this free, even if for a short time. It'd be quick and he'd be gone, just like he made so many others do.

Izaya let go.

And Izaya was caught. He hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard the voice call his name. He had been so focused on the drop he hadn't noticed the intruder. As he had let his hands go, another pair slid under his armpits, catching him. A quick heave and Izaya was back on the ground again, or rather, on someone. Still being held to said chest by his 'savior,' Izaya felt no need to move. He didn't struggle. It didn't matter if someone had saved him last second. It just delayed the inevitable. Soon he'd be left alone again and he'd just do it again. He was always left alone again.

Then he was being lifted up and carried bridal style, away from his freedom. Izaya looked lazily up at the person who took his death from him. Shizuo wasn't meeting his eyes, but Izaya saw the pain in the mocha orbs, oddly absent of his shades. The door was opened and Izaya was taken inside. The door closed behind them, the sound like that of a prison door slamming shut. Shizuo sighed, a sigh that carried a heavy weight. It almost made Izaya feel something, other than pain that is. Then again, guilt is just a type of pain.

Shizuo sat down on the stairwell, Izaya in his lap. They were both drenched but neither cared about it. In Izaya's case this was the warmest he's felt in a while, wrapped in Shizuo's arms. Had he been in the right state of mind he might have made a quip about Shizuo and he looking like lovers. As it was though, those arms that held him to the source of warmth, were more like chains wrapped around him. He hadn't eaten right in a long time, his limbs had no strength to break free. As if he could beat Shizuo's strength anyways.

"I'd ask you why," Shizuo started slowly, his voice like a feather falling onto a mattress. "I'd ask you if there was anything we could do. I'd ask you not to. There's a lot of things I want to ask you, but I won't." Izaya couldn't look at Shizuo anymore, choosing to close his eyes and let the blond's voice wash over him like waves against the shore. "I'd tell you not to be an idiot. I'd tell you there are people who care for you. I'd tell you that it's not all that bad. There's so many things I'd tell you, but I won't."

Izaya couldn't help the curiosity that rose within him, remnants of a brighter past. This was, by far, the worst talk down Izaya had ever heard. He had heard so many of these already, mostly from himself, none of them had an effect on him though. Now Shizuo was saying he wasn't going to say those clichés? "What are you going to do then?" Izaya asked quietly.

Shizuo's arms tightened around him. A snake coiling around its prey. "I'm going to take you home. I'm going to get you into a bath to warm you up. I'm going to make you eat some soup. And then I'm going to make you sleep."

Izaya snorted. "That's not a very permanent solution, Shizuo."

"You didn't let me finish. When you wake up again I'm going to be there. I'm going to take you back to this city and show you this ice cream shop I used to take Kasuka to. Then I'm going to be with you until it's time for dinner, then we'll go to Russia Sushi because I know Simon's been asking about you. Then, if you're up to it, I'm taking you to see Shinra."

"And if I'm not?"

"I take you back to my place and you will sleep again."

"You can't save someone who wants to die…"

"I can save whoever the hell I want to save." Shizuo stood up, lifting Izaya up with him too. Izaya was forced to grab onto Shizuo's shirt front as he was lifted, fearful of falling. He found it ironic that he was afraid of falling when he wanted to die. Primal instincts suck.

Izaya had nothing to say to the blond, and Shizuo had nothing to say to the raven. As they exited the building and began walking through the streets, the rain pelted the both of them. At least, at first it was the both of them. Shizuo curled forward slightly as they walked, using his broad shoulders and head to shield Izaya from the rain as they walked against it. It left Izaya staring up into chocolate colored eyes though, something that he wasn't entirely okay with. Shizuo's arms pulled Izaya even closer to his chest, if such a thing was possible. Izaya hated that it was warm like this. He hated how he fit against Shizuo's body so well. He hated it, they were supposed to be fighting right now. No. He was supposed to be dead right now.

The blond gave a slight squeeze, as though he knew Izaya's thoughts. "You can't guard me forever," Izaya whispered his thoughts aloud. "Someday your guard will slip, or you'll think I'm fine. You're going to have to leave and then I'll be dead. You're just delaying the inevitable."

"Is this a challenge?" Shizuo asked. "I'm fairly good at challenges, Izaya." The raven jumped slightly at hearing his name. It had been a while since he spoke to someone who used his name. It was weird, but he wasn't sure if it was a good weird or a bad weird. "I'm not leaving you alone," Shizuo said softly, unusual for the screaming blond. "I promise."

"Promises are made to be broken," Izaya offered.

"Only by people who don't know what they're getting into," Shizuo shot back.

"And you're saying you know what you're getting into?"

"It's not my first time down this road…" Izaya tried not to look too surprised at hearing that. He hadn't considered before that Shizuo had experience with this kind of ideology. Did he mean he had been in his place before? Or did it just mean that Shizuo had played the role of the savior before? And if so, then to whom?

Why did he even care?

Izaya didn't realize they had reached an apartment building until Shizuo was trying to balance him in one arm in order to get the door open. It wasn't his apartment complex, that was for sure. Neither was it Shinra's place, which meant he was now in Shizuo's territory. He was in the belly of the beast, with the mouth closing behind him as the doors closed.

Shizuo carried him up several flights of stairs without complaint. He didn't even look winded, a testament to the blond's strength. Izaya shuddered in his arms. If Shizuo wanted he could crush him like a grape, not that it seemed Shizuo wanted to. Izaya debated as to whether he should try to provoke Shizuo into a fit of rage. It seemed a quick solution to his living problem. He had a feeling though that his efforts would be in vain, something about the set of Shizuo's shoulders and the way he looked at Izaya told him it wouldn't work. And honestly, Izaya was too tired to try.

Shizuo's apartment was a mess. Not the mess of someone who lived life like a slob. It was the kind of mess a friend who stayed over for a weekend left. It was the mess that begged to be cleaned, by someone else. It was the mess of a man who didn't really see the house as home. It was sad.

Shizuo cleared a space on the couch and set Izaya down in a sitting position. Standing over him like this, Izaya tried not to feel intimidated by the blond. Said man was currently glaring at Izaya. "Stay," he ordered before vanishing down a hallway.

Shizuo was an idiot if he thought he'd stay. Izaya stood up and crept over to the doorway, trying to go fast but quiet all the same. He heard Shizuo fumbling around in another room, the sound of drawers opening and shutting. He had time, he could get out and finish the job. Izaya slid outside and stood in the hallway briefly, caught between right or left. Right took him to the roof, left took him outside. He guessed it didn't really matter how he killed himself, be it on Shizuo's roof or any other.

The stairs leading up to the roof were steep. It was hard to keep his balance on them. Holding the handrail, he ascended. There wasn't a sound in the stairwell save that of his own footsteps, rhythmic and annoying. He was annoying.

The door down below opened and shut suddenly, making Izaya pause.

"Izaya!" Shizuo called up, sounding angry. Izaya gulped and stayed still, praying the beast would think that he was elsewhere. He was enough floors up that Shizuo couldn't see him from the bottom, nor could Izaya see him.

The plan failed as he heard the furious steps of Shizuo. Scrambling, his heart racing, Izaya ran for the top. He just needed to get onto the roof and over it before Shizuo caught him. Shizuo rarely caught him in their chases so he really shouldn't have anything to worry about. He was worried though.

The door came into view, another flight. He sighed in relief, Shizuo had to still be several floors down. He made it. Grasping the door-handle Izaya allowed himself a moment of pride at having made it past the monster.

The door was locked.

Izaya felt tears pricking his eyes as he stared at the handle. Of course it was locked! Just his luck of all things. He could have made it; he could have been free from this. Instead he was stuck. He kicked the lock, a vain effort. The lock didn't budge and he was left with a sharp, then dull, pain in his foot.

"FUCK!" he screamed for the sake of screaming, the tears coming down like the rain outside.

Like a bottle draining out, Izaya felt the energy and fight go out of him. He turned his back to the door and slid down alongside it, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hid his head in his arms and awaited Shizuo. The steps coming up had slowed down considerably, Shizuo must have realized that he was stuck. Izaya was grateful that he had been given at least a moment to wallow, as that must be why Shizuo had slowed down.

The moment didn't last long enough, something that was probably beneficial to his health. He was being lifted again, Shizuo had come. Izaya couldn't retain his ball form in Shizuo's arm and warily looked up at the blond. "You mad?" he asked quietly.

"No," Shizuo replied, and it sounded like he was being honest. There wasn't any of the anger left from when he had first come to the stairwell.

Izaya wasn't so easily convinced though and chose to be as unobtrusive as possible. He didn't want to incur Shizuo's wrath. It was clear that Shizuo didn't want to kill him, but that didn't mean the blond wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. Pain wasn't what he wanted, he wanted to end the pain; not bring more about.

They were back in Shizuo's apartment, and he was back on the blond's couch. It was like nothing ever happened, except Shizuo didn't ever fully look away from Izaya. Shizuo sat on the coffee table, across from Izaya who had resumed ball form. "Come on, 'Zaya." Shizuo coaxed. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes."

"Is that why you left?" Izaya asked, hating how childish he sounded. Hating himself for asking in the first place.

"Yeah, I was trying to find something that was close to your size." Shizuo patted the stack of clothes beside him. Izaya didn't even need them held up to know they'd still be practically falling off of him. Shizuo shrugged. "It's the best I can do on such short notice," he said as though he could read Izaya's mind.

It took another three minutes of coaxing to get Izaya to come out of his ball form and change clothes. Shizuo helped him with taking off and putting on a shirt, not helping the idea that Shizuo was treating him like a child. At least the blond let Izaya change his pants by himself; except Shizuo wouldn't let him change in the bathroom. Izaya had a feeling he wouldn't be allowed to close a door for a really, really, long time.

Once he was changed Shizuo wrapped him in a blanket that had been hanging off the back of the couch. For a couch blanket, it was surprisingly soft. Shizuo smiled gently at him and Izaya had to wonder what kind of image he made. He must look like an abandoned cat or something. No, probably closer to a kitten. A drowned kitted.

"Are you hungry?" Shizuo asked.

Izaya shook his head and clenched his stomach muscles to stop the cliché growl that happens whenever someone claims they aren't hungry. Shizuo didn't look like he bought it, but he let it go anyways. "Alright. I don't have a guest room so you can have my bed."

Izaya shook his head again. He didn't want to take Shizuo's bed, it probably smelled like cigarettes anyways. Shizuo gave him a kind of exasperated look. "Izaya… I can't let you take the couch." Izaya frowned, not comprehending why. It'd certainly be more comfortable for the both of them…

Oh.

Izaya looked back at the door and saw the locks had been done up. Shizuo was standing, holding out a hand to help Izaya up. The raven didn't grab it immediately. He didn't deserve the help after all, or the bed while the owner of the place took the couch. Shizuo saw that he had stalled and took the choice away from him, grabbing Izaya's surprisingly still cold hand, into his warm one. Izaya was pulled up from the couch and lead by hand down the hall, blanket still wrapped around his shoulder like a cape.

Shizuo lead him into the bedroom and gently pushed him into the bed. He didn't know why he wasn't fighting it; he should be fighting it. He should be yelling at Shizuo; he should be trying to escape out the window. He should be doing something to try to get out of spending the night in Shizuo's room, in his bed. Yet, he did nothing.

He wished he had his switch blade with him. Shizuo pulled a bedroll out of the closet and began setting it up in front of the closed bedroom door. He cast a sad glance to Izaya as he did so, a silent apology for having to go to such lengths. Izaya wouldn't be able to exit the room without Shizuo knowing it.

Izaya laid down and rolled over, his back to Shizuo. He had been right, the bed smelled like cigarettes. But he was wrong because it wasn't that bad of a smell. He hated that he actually felt a bit of comfort by the scent that was unmistakably Shizuo. Why couldn't he be mad at the large protozoan? Why couldn't he be hateful towards this blond who was keeping him alive?

Maybe it was because he was trying to keep him alive. Maybe it was because Shizuo was the first person in years to show kindness and caring to such an extent towards him. No one, not his parents, sisters, friends, or anyone otherwise had been so caring to him before. It was too bad such actions were long past due. Maybe if Shizuo had been like this when they first met rather than angry, maybe then Izaya wouldn't find Shizuo's efforts needless and mildly annoying.

"Why?" Izaya asked softly as Shizuo turned off the lights. He listened as Shizuo shuffled into his bedding on the floor for a moment. The sounds of another person moving while he was in a soft mattress were almost as strange as the feeling of being in a bed that was not his own.

"What do you mean?" Shizuo asked into the darkness.

"Why are you doing this?" Izaya elaborated, "Why are you keeping me alive, why are you being so nice? Is this some sick torment to get revenge on me? Do you get joy from seeing me in pain like this?" he half yelled the last two sentences.

"No, no, Izaya." The raven gasped softly at hearing his name spoken again. "I'm not doing this to torture you, I promise. I just want you to be alive, Izaya. Is that so much to ask?"

"You're avoiding the main point of my question," Izaya noted.

"And you're dodging my distractions." Shizuo sighed. "I don't know why, Izaya. By all rights I should be yelling at you and letting you…. Well, you know. I just can't though. I'm really don't like violence, Izaya. And seeing you so low like this, and knowing I may be part of the reason why you're like this, no matter how small a part that is… it hurts. I want to help, I really do. And I know you don't want my help right now, I get it. I just hope someday you can look back at this and be at least mildly glad I did what I'm doing right now… get it?"

Izaya closed his eyes and nodded, his head sinking more heavily into the pillow. Belatedly he realized Shizuo had never taken a pillow for himself. Lifting up on one arm he grabbed one of the fluffier ones and threw it in the general direction of the blond. The smack and grunt that followed confirmed Izaya had hit his target. "I think I get it," Izaya said.

"Thanks."

 **AN: Thank you all for being so supportive of me :)**


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